


Hold 'Em

by cylo



Series: Jackalope [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:46:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylo/pseuds/cylo
Summary: McCree gets a chance to meet with the person responsible for some damning information leaks concerning Deadlock's activities.





	Hold 'Em

Heavy smoke fogged the entire bar, the smell of burning tobacco and the smell of the shitty local beer on the patrons’ lips brought back nostalgic memories for McCree. Puffing his own cigar, he scanned the room quickly. Of course, nearly everyone in the run-down bar was armed to the teeth. No real surprise, there. The entire gorge was gang-ridden-- fuck it, the gorge was gang- _ run _ . If he learned anything from this place it was to know that any moment could go to shit in less than a second. That, and to always keep a hand near your holster. If he played his cards right, he wouldn’t lose a single bullet tonight.

He was here to talk.

Here to talk to the young woman near the end of the bar, picking at the salted rim of her margarita idly; the only person without a weapon on them. McCree tipped his hat to the omnic behind the bar as he took a seat to the left of the girl.

“Bourbon.” 

“Right away.”

A shift, the girl tucked her leg and sat on it and rolled her shoulders back. Uncomfortable with the company, he noted. He caught sidelong glances of the girl’s scrutinizing glare from his metal arm resting on the bar, to his holster, then to his face. 

The omnic placed his drink in front of him. A deep swig, the burn a welcome sensation at the back of his throat, and a sigh. McCree leaned on the bar.

“Interesting choice.” The girl closed her eyes briefly, and inhaled deeply at the comment, making no secret she was already annoyed. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Goin’ around with no gun at your hip.” McCree turned his head to give her a once-over. “With your team’s colors on, no less.”

The girl took her time taking a sip from her drink. “Yeah?” Less a dare, more dismissive.

“Pretty dangerous, if you ask me.” he watched her face closely, but she stared ahead, bringing the glass to her lips.

“Mmhmm.” And your point, being?

A pause, his next words slow and casual. “Just thinkin’ you must be somebody special if nobody wants to mess with ya.”

A shrug.

McCree’s voiced dropped low. “Makes mutiny all the easier, don’t it?” 

The girl’s brows knit ever so slightly, but kept her head forward. Her tell. He let the moment simmer, testing her nerve. She seemed to focus on a bottle displayed behind the bar. Though her eyes, tired and half open, betrayed her as well. Small twitches of movement, of calculations, escapes planned. He knew the look all too well and took another drink casually. “I’m not gonna hold it against ya. After all, I came down to help.”

“Then, tell me,” her voice was low, nearly accusatory. “Why I should trust somebody like  _ you _ ...”  She finally turned to him. Her eyes blazed as she met his. On the defensive. Backed into a corner. Her eyes traveled up to the emblem attached to his hat, confirming what she had already known about the man. “ _ McCree _ .” Nearly a growl. 

“Seems my reputation precedes me.” He grinned. Now that he had her full attention, the game could really begin. McCree at the button, and the girl with the big blind, the antes were high. “You may want to hold off on makin’ your judgements just yet. You haven’t heard what I’ve had to offer.”  He pushed up his hat-- a power move. Nothing to hide, the cards in his pocket already a massive advantage. “What’s your name, sweet pea?” Quieter, confiding.

Her eyes narrowed at the moniker. His confidence was obnoxious to her, the flare of her nostrils made that clear enough, but the change in his tone wedged the crack in her defences. 

She pulled her drink closer. “Jackie.”

“Jackie,” He repeated. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Call me Jesse.” Another smile broke on his face as he took a drag on his cigar. A beat. “Sure seems Deadlock’s come back with a vengeance. Playin’ with the big boys.” Jackie cautiously looked to him. 

“Things change. Whether or not you want them to.” Her face hardened, the last bit more to herself than to McCree. “Problems nowadays aren’t solved as easily as a bullet between the eyes, Deadeye.” Raise.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean all I’m good for is a sure-shot. Just as I’m sure there’s more to you than your ties to the head honcho.” Another drag. “How much of a choice did you have joining?” Reraise. 

Something seemed to strike Jackie at his words. That was answer enough.

“How old?”

“Ten.” A hint of a tremor in her voice. A pang of sympathy gnawed at his gut. All too familiar. The world being no stranger to tragedy, and when tragedy leaves kids homeless and without families, gangs had a tendency to take them in. 

“Christ.” 

“Mm.” Jackie bottomed her drink. She shook the empty cup of ice and held it up for another. Call. “Guessin’ you were older?”

“Fourteen.” 

She nodded, understanding. Her brow furrowed, shifting again in her chair, choosing her next words carefully as the flop is revealed. 

“What’s your angle?” Their eyes met again. “If somebody wanted me dead, I’d already be six feet under. So, apparently I’m more useful alive.” She wagered. “Tailin’ me for a week to have a little chat at the bar claimin’ you want to ‘help’. What do you want?”

“I’m gussin’ about the same thing you want.” A sip of bourbon. 

“What  _ do  _ I want?”

A chuckle from McCree. “To stop some WMDs gettin’ into the wrong hands.” Call.

Jackie raised an eyebrow, taking her new drink from the omnic. It was obvious the constant recalculations she had to make was getting exhausting, but the curiosity of the implications, an offer up in the air, was too powerful to get her to fold. The turn dealt. 

“What’s your offer?” Check.

“Little bit of outside help.  _ Resources  _ you couldn’t get your hands on before. Some friends in your corner.” Bet.

Hints of a smile broke on Jackie’s lips, she liked what she heard. She was beginning to warm up to him and his offer, but she wouldn’t be won over so easily. “‘Friends’?” Raise.

“Me and some people who would rather keep the world in one piece...” He thought of some of the candidates and corrected himself. “Well, people against global destruction.” Call.

Jackie eyed the emblem on his hat once again, something stopping her from going all in with the river. Several beats pass, the offer rolling in her mind. Whatever was stopping her was cast off. “So we’ll be working together, then.” The very idea caused her to chuckle. “They’re gonna be so  _ pissed _ . Me shaking things up is one thing, but to do it  _ beside  _ _ the _ _ Deadeye McCree _ ? They’ll lose their fucking minds.” 

McCree grinned, taking the cigar from his mouth and snuffing it in the ashtray near him. There wasn’t a need for a showdown. He held out a hand to her, which she took firmly. Folding, letting her take the pot.

“Lookin’ forward to workin’ with ya.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jackie/Jackalope is a silly self-insert of mine that I've been having too much fun thinking about.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
